The Girl Who Learned to Fly
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Susan Bones has forgotten nearly everything after a bad accident, and now it is up to her best friend Hannah to make everything right again.


_**For the 'Summer 2013 Wizarding Modly Forum-Wide Competition of Awesomeness' (Flying Challenge, Option B, House Hufflepuff, Wand Currently Being Withheld) Please, mods, my full score. Using prompts: **_Red, notes, book, different, learn, without, hands, new, warm, fly.

_**For the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 274, starting from scratch. **_

_**For the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using emotion: friendship. **_

….

When I wake up, it's to a red wall of nothingness.

Red sheets and red curtains and red hair curling around my wrists, long and tangled.

The colour screams out at me, demanding attention, and I comply, breathing heavily. I'm so confused, bewildered as to how I got here, on this unfamiliar bed.

I blink, and the red disappears, fading into softer colours of yellow, and I begin to wonder why I would have ever thought such pretty colours were so loud only moments before.

There are books on a desk next to my bed, and I pull myself up slowly, moving towards the books with curiosity.

They don't look familiar, yet I feel as if I ought to know them, ought to recognise the titles that are printed with fading gold.

Titles like _Advanced Potion-Making _and _Confronting the Faceless_, title that don't mean anything much to me, yet I pick one up and flip through it anyway, as if I have done this a million times before.

It contains pictures of werewolves and different stages of the moon, which I don't understand, and I drop the book back down on the stack.

I look down at my hands, wondering why they look so strange, when a young girl comes in.

If I had to guess, she's probably fifteen or so, with long brown hair-prettier than my tangled red-and a smile. She seems shy, hesitant even, as she comes over, a bouquet in her hands.

_Daisies. _

The word flickers through my mind before I can even process what's happening.

This girl seems familiar, like I ought to know her, but at the same time, she is as unfamiliar as the freckles on my hand, two pale strange things that I don't recognise.

Just like everything around me, my hands, this girl, this room-a hodge podge of unfamiliar things; it frightens me.

"Hey, Su." The girl says, handing me the flowers-_daisies-_smiling shyly at me. She has pretty blue eyes, I note, and a happy face. "It's nice to see you up and awake. I know it's been hard these past few days, without being able to get out of bed, but Madame Pomfrey says you seem to be getting better."

My face must register horror or shock, because she immediately begins to stammer, attempting to explain.

"You know, what with the flying accident two weeks ago? You f-fell off your broom, Su? Don't tell me you don't remember?" Without even the traces of a smile anymore, the girl begins to cry, and all I can do is look on, confused.

"What's going on, Su? What's happened?" the girl asks me, sobbing. I have no answer for her, my heart plummeting as I realise, she too, has no idea what's going on, why I am without memories all of the sudden.

…..

It is interesting, the life I have become used to.

Things flit in and out of my mind constantly, thoughts and names and words.

I struggle to hold on to the things I learn each day, struggle to remind myself of things I learned yesterday and the day before.

People, lessons, all are a new learning experience for me, a twisting, winding road full of experimental paths.

I never quite recall what I learned, nor do I remember the day I fell off my broom, but I can't complain much, not with good friends like Hannah learning along with me.

I'm starting from scratch, but I'm not alone.

"Ready?" Hannah asks, her hands warm as they hold mine.

I've forgotten my gloves, most likely having left them upstairs, and I don't want to waste her time by rushing upstairs to get them.

Hannah's pretty brown hair is done up into two long braids, and her warm hands grip mine tightly, as if she's trying to transfer the heat in her to me, as if that will help me recover faster.

"It's time to go out, Su." I try not to grimace, knowing Hannah doesn't mean to be condescending.

Most people don't, they're just trying to be helpful. It's hard, I know, dealing with someone who struggles to create memories, like me.

I've been healing these last few months, I've been learning to live my life like everything is new.

It's hard sometimes, when an 'old friend' isn't someone I recall, or when I have to relearn a lesson several times over.

Everything is new to me, everything seems to be happening too fast, and I can't recall meeting new people or experiencing new things.

Already, I can tell Hannah is exasperated with me as she leads me down the stairs to the Quidditch pitch. I wonder if I have forgotten what we are doing today already.

I have notebooks, entire journals filled with details notes to help me remember, to help me.

Notes about who I am as a person, notes about my friends.

Notes about life, notes about my likes and dislikes.

I live, sometimes, through these journals, because otherwise, it's hard to cope with my situation.

Today is the first day I'll be allowed back on my broom since my fall, and I've already written all about it, notes and notes, pages and pages about how I feel, what I think will happen.

Hannah seems excited that I'm recovering, even if it makes me nervous.

Everything is so different from how it used to be, before I fell and hurt myself.

People react differently to me, and I seem to be a different person than I once was.

I'm still the nice, helpful person I was, but I'm more impatient, more likely to cry.

It's hard, getting used to all these different changes in my life, and it's wonderful that I have such great friends like Hannah to keep me sane and to keep me on track.

I think I'd go mad without her, having to constantly be faced with different, difficult new challenges every day.

I turn to Hannah, a smile on my face, a broom in my hand.

She looks so happy, so carefree, as if there are no problems in the world, no war bubbling on the horizon.

We're just two young girls who are best friends, and there's no reason to panic.

I laugh as Hannah does a handstand, whooping loudly with excitement.

The ecstatic look on her face tells me she's just as happy as I feel, just as open and free.

One leg wrapped around my broom-which feels _so _familiar now that I wonder how I could have ever forgotten-and I kick off, flying into the air.

Susan Bones, the girl who learned to fly.


End file.
